


Phantoms of Pandemonium's Past

by Scythe_of_Starlight



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amusement Parks, Autumn, Carnival, Dark Carnival, Don't copy to another site, Ghosts, Other, Supernatural Elements, Thunderstorms, Tumblr: Writing-prompt-s, abandoned theme park, accidentally wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 03:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scythe_of_Starlight/pseuds/Scythe_of_Starlight
Summary: From writing-prompt-s Tumblr:"You stumble upon an abandoned carnival, taken back by nature. The power switch is rusted to the “on” and everything appears burnt out. As you wander throughout the abandoned land, lights begin to slowly flicker to life until everything is lit up again. With a lurch, the rides screech back to life, music playing slowly. All around you a cackle joins the dark chorus."---Having gotten tired of all the rustling and crunching of the fallen leaves that I step on, I take a gloved hand out of my pocket and check the time on my wristwatch, "...I-It's half past nine...?!" my whisper of a voice trembles from both the prolonged under use and the sheer cold of my surroundings."That's i-impossible, it was just mid-noon a-a second ago! How t-the...?" My train of thought loses it's rails as something in the far distance grabs my attention, "...is that...?" and holds it hostage.(Now proceed to watch me get too sentimental over the theme parks I've went to in the past and accidentally make something wholesome out of a horror prompt.)





	Phantoms of Pandemonium's Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, it's me again! With an original story this time!  
> It occurred to me that I've actually tried my hand at a couple prompts from the writing-prompts-s Tumblr page! So I'll be uploading some re-edited versions on here!  
> Thank you to everyone who liked my first real fanfic, I wasn't expecting so much positive feedback XD  
> Anyway, my Tumblr is Chibidarkness1111 and my Twitter is @ImposiblParadox!  
> I had some flashbacks of Geauga Lake while writing this, hope you like it!

Even at the tail end of Autumn I don't think it should be this cold... Luminescent flakes fall from somewhere high in the sky as the shadows of the treetops threaten to trap me in a forest of pitch darkness and the grayscale clouds even higher above them send out deep roars, as if the worsening weather is offended by my presence.

 

There hasn't been an ounce of rain through all the time I've spent in the densely populated city of high rise skyscrapers, endless commotion, and very busy streets. Even when I was reaching the outskirts and travelling further into the rural countryside filled with golden wheat acres and families of hardworking farmers, not a cloud in the sky and no mention of rain nor thunder - I'm even unsure if this is really snow or not. It's strange as well, we're in the later half September and yet I know the days aren't supposed to end in the afternoon-- wait a second.  
  
Having gotten tired of all the rustling and crunching of the fallen leaves that I step on, I take a gloved hand out of my pocket and check the time on my wristwatch, "...I-It's half past nine...?!" my whisper of a voice trembles from both the prolonged under use and the sheer cold of my surroundings.  
  
"That's i-impossible, it was just mid-noon a-a second ago! How t-the...?" My train of thought loses it's rails as something in the far distance grabs my attention, "...is that...?" and holds it hostage.

 

Despite not remembering how, I find myself transitioning from a decent jog to a full-on run with the boots on my feet carrying me as fast as I'm able, my labored breathing leave evaporating trails in the freezing air behind me, though half the time I end up feeling a cascading blast of warmth as my muffler catches my next exhale instead. The thing that I'm running toward is the same thing that steadily gets closer, it's also something that I've seen in the most repressed part of my childhood memories, having suddenly triggered flickers of life after all this time: the welcoming arch to _Lord Walton's Carnival of Enchanting Pandemonium_ , the rainbow of colors and finely crafted hinges and swirls of the arc's edges now faded and layered with thick grime, overgrown vines and wild flowers having overtaken it once again.  
  
Nicknamed Walton's Carnival, this used to be the most popular and truly enchanting place that I've ever known. My family and I used to adore this place! Though even if my older brother was always too much of a hardass to properly admit it, anyone that tried to mock the design of the famed chipmunk mascot _Sir Eutamias Sibiricus XI_ \- what with his big eyes, tiny paws, round cheeks and gigantic tail - would find themselves on the receiving end of my brother's wrath, proving that he loved this place just as much as we did. Maybe even more so 'cause I sure as hell never got into fistfights over the design of a carnival mascot...but I digress.

 

The seething pain in my legs and chest force me back to reality as I just barely realize that I've started sliding to my knees, my left hand holding an unsteady grip on the ice cold metal of the arc itself. Vine tendrils and leaves whipping the exposed portion of my wrist and arm on my way down, unprotected from neither my black sweater, brown jacket, the white furred cuff, my wristwatch, nor my glove, sending dew and now-pounding rain droplets attach to and roll off my bare skin.  
  
Even back then, I've never been able to run for very long - even now my asthma proves just as troublesome as it was on one of the Carnival's many roller coasters, where I'd always scream myself senseless and my brother would literally cling to me for dear life. Even if it's called a “Carnival”, Walton's Carnival was something closer to a straight-up amusement park or permanent funfair, having way more rides than any carnival would typically have and never changing location. The Merry-go-Round, the Ferris Wheel, the Starship Infinity - a pair of spaceship rides that flew past each other in a course shaped like an infinity symbol, the Hightide Cascade - one of the carnival's most prized water rides, the Quintessential Conundrum - a house of ever-changing rooms where participants had to unlock by solving puzzles, and many more.

 

Chocolate glazed candy apples, booming firework shows, my parents congratulating us on finally winning a pair of plushies that godforsaken Ultra-Impossible Claw Machine (to Hell with that thing), my self-proclaimed 'extra mature' big bro trying not to cry as the mascots and employees gathered 'round to sing him happy birthday, slightly awkward group photos, and pure exhaustion that always hit us like a ton of bricks when we all got back in the car to go back home. Memories of enchantment and pandemonium did dances in my vision as I did my best to open my heavy eyelids and keep them open.  
  
But in the reality before me: all I see is rust, decay, overgrowth and the descending rain.  
  
A strike of lightning sends a jolt of panic coursing through my chest with the resulting boom of the thunder leaves me covering my ears for fear of being deafened. My gloves are much too thin to be of any protection in a thunderstorm, they've already been drenched to ruin and my muffler is now two pounds or so heavier with all the water it's soaked with.  
  
"Ah, goddammit..." Cursing myself for expecting too much of the weather, my hands drop back to earth - drowning leaves and mushy dirt make way for something even more unexpected than the rain to bump into my fingertips.  
  
"Did...did someone drop this...?" Asking a question no one is around to answer, I rub the unknown object back and forth between the gaps of my fingers, up and down on my palm.  
  
It's a small square or rectangle beneath a slanted cube. I know this shape.

 

"A...light switch?" Brushing what could've been the switch's protective covering, I sink further to my hands and knees to get a better look at the off-gray light switch that's embedded in the ground. Similar to the park itself, it lies abandoned, forgotten by the masses in it's badly chipped and water drenched state. The faded red letters are almost impossible to read but after using the sleeve of my sopping wet jacket to wipe the intrusive water drops and streams off my face, I can see it clearer: ON. The light switch is set to on.  
  
"This must be for the lights on the welcoming arch..." I wonder aloud to the empty air. Another lightning strike crackles in the distance, this time leaving me half way blinded by the bolt that overtakes my peripheral vision.  
  
With a hard flinch, the figure I thought I saw in the light disappears along with it - leaving only the echoing thunder as my only friend for the next few seconds. The mist caused by the rain may be getting worse but somehow it holds no bearing on my sight of the light switch, with a loose grip I struggle to flip it back OFF, fearing the possible electricity and fire hazards this thing could cause if left as is. Who knows if anything still has some power left in it after all this time... Pinching the switch and pulling downward with varying degrees of intensity.

 

After the fifteenth failed attempt I decide to surrender my mission, by this time it's almost like I'm not wearing gloves at all, they're so soaked now that I'm beginning to wonder if the creeping numbness in my fingertips is a sign of frostbite or not. Rising up from an aching knee I plant my waterlogged boot back on solid(-ish) ground as the puddles of rain water splash at my foot's interference. Grappling on to the arc with both arms I carry my surprisingly weary self back into a standing position. Stretching with a yawn as my back and spinal column re-correcting itself, accompanied by a pop loud enough to make me worry a little.  
  
No figures to be seen regardless of whichever way I turn my head, "I was just hallucinating." I assure myself.  
  
But nonetheless, I need to find someone to help turn off the switch. This time of year is perfect for the teenagers and people my age who go looking for abandoned structures to scare themselves stupid in, be they looking to advance their horror themed ViewerTube careers or just wanting to do something dangerous in time for Halloween. Walton's Carnival was popular enough to get some views off of, right?  
  
The bitter click of my tongue hopes not.

 

Walking further into the Carnival, everything was as it always was, only now hopelessly decrepit and run-down. _This place can't possibly be fixed up - it's just too damaged_ , I think to myself. The cost to even begin reinventions would be way too much especially for how a good number of these attractions and rides would go as antiques or go on auction on I-Bid for hundreds or thousands of dollars easily!  
  
The mist is growing thick enough to be considered a fog as the puddles turn to the dirt into little pools of squishy quicksand. Catching my feet in the depths of another tiny sinkhole making me swallow back another shriek at the unsettling sensation of having my socks touch the cold sludge. Trampled leaves and rocks getting kicked away in a flurry of dead orange and murky brown. Everything from the ticket booths to the largest roller coaster are rusted to oblivion and covered with intertwining ropes of ivy vines, the haunting atmosphere inching closer toward the oppressive end with every step I take into the blacker fog-filled darkness.

 

My clothes are actively weighing me down now. The jacket I still have on is  now clinging to my sweater which in turn clings to my skin, my pants are weighting my legs with my boots getting trapped in the mud every few minutes, these gloves are beyond useless as the numbness slowly spreads down each finger, my muffler is turning into an iron collar that I'm losing the strength to pull off.

  
My watch remains at 9:37 - just as it was when I arrived this deep in the forest - it's definitely broken, and to make matters worse: I'm losing my balance more often than I'd like to admit, with my knees halfway buckling every time I realize that I've taken a wrong turn and needed to retrace my steps.  
  
"I'm not...getting sick am I...?" My voice barely croaks out, "Come on, I just gotta...find someone to, to turn the switch thing off..."  
  
_It's not that hard, it's not that hard, just find someone, just find someone_ , I repeat those lines in my head till they don't sound like words anymore. Still even then they repeat some more.

 

As the millionth lightning strike and thunder clasp make me jump for the millionth time, I end up losing my sight for a split second and seeing that same figure from before flutter in the dark behind my eyelids. It's more of a silhouette than a figure and more masculine than androgynous, defying what I first thought - but remains too blurred and unfocused to make out any clear physical features.

  
Woozily, I almost collapse by the...where am I...? Where am I?! Oh God where am I?! I've never seen this part of the Carnival before! Twisting my head around in blind panic I see that it's an old wooden structure of sorts that I'm desperately trying to hold on to is the outer railing of it's porch.  
  
The rain stings my swollen red eyes as I see the crumbling letters in ocean blue font: "Sa...lqqm...??? Salqoom, Sa-...wha?" I'm too delirious for this reading comprehension nonsense... Squinting as hard as I can without having my eyes close shut on me, I try again, "Saloqn-- _OH!_ **_SALOON!_ **" I cry out. Saloon, that's right! There was a small Wild West themed portion of the Carnival that catered more toward adults! Mom and Dad would never let us in this part given how late it opened and the fact that real alcohol was served here! Christ, I'd almost forgotten!

 

Too bad that by the time I'm able to legally enter this part of the Carnival is after the whole thing's become a ghost town... If I'm all the way out here, then there must be no one around, I need to turn back...

 

Wandering past the jungle themed water park section, limping my way beyond the drowning kiddie pools, somehow carrying myself underneath the famous airborne Merry-go-Round the World attraction, I'm about twelve seconds from giving up on my exhausted legs entirely to go crawling on my hands and knees, with the slippery mud, the ice cold rain, and the disturbingly dense fog as the only things to keep me company...oh yeah and the silhouette dressed in Walton's Carnival Ringleader attire. Dressing as the Carnival's Manager, are they insane? Maybe I really am starting to lose my mind because out of the Central Plaza's dilapidated speakers I can still hear the majestic melody of the Carnival's theme song - no matter how warped and distorted it may be, I still remember the lyrics by heart. The commercial playing in my aching head.

 

"Come one, come all to this land of myth and legend!"

 

I've been here for longer than I can even tell...

 

"Parents bring your children, brothers bring your sisters, aunts and uncles bring your friends!"

 

I've been looking everywhere for a single person...no one's here...

 

"For if you feel your hearts grow sad with anxiousness and boredom,"

 

Well...you got me there at least...

 

"Then never fear for everyone is welcome at Lord Walton's Carnival of Enchanting Pandemonium!!"

 

...oh, how ironic...what was this Walton even a Lord of, a country? A failed amusement Carnival?

 

"Oh Sir Walton, please don't be so sour!"

 

...wait that's not part of the-

 

"Just come on down to the Central Plaza, please be here within the hour!"

 

...

 

Just that quickly, the speakers gave an ear-splitting screech of what could've been microphone feedback, the sounds of the pouring rain replace the silence it now leaves me with.  
  
That was more than a little strange, through the heavy mechanical distortion of the anonymous voice, I somehow heard the announcer call for Lord--or Sir Walton himself to quit his bullshit and get to the Central Plaza. Was that a recorded message? Why did it play just then? If the switch has been turned ON for all this time then how often does that message repeat itself? And most importantly, why am I suddenly compelled to go to the Central Plaza...? Just what the hell?  
  
Putting the breaks on my train of thought is the eerie rumbling of rusted metal grating on snapping vegetation, swiveling around to the direction of the noise, I see with my own eyes: the Merry-go-Round the World that I passed up a little while ago jerks violently - twisting and twitching all on it's own, sending the dangling cars to swing rather harshly. Lightning crashes, thunder booms, and the huge Ferris wheel in the distance begins to flicker and flutter the multicolored beams of light that surrounds it back into operation... it too sends cries of dingy metal on ages-old springs and mechanics to reverberate throughout the air before slowly starting to rotate once more. "What...what the actual hell?" Forgetting all about the pain I feel or the too-wet clothes I wear, I spin around in confusion filled circles, trying to get a grasp on what the hell is going on.

 

Stopping in front of the prize booth for the Strength-o-Meter, I watch as the little metal ball rises back up to where the bell is, the ball colliding with it at what might be full force and sending a vigorous ring to carry though the wind. Standing before a row of game booths, they all seem to clean themselves off, with the Gunslinger Game having it's toy muskets be wiped off by an invisible hand carrying one of the whitening rags, the lights upon the toy prizes flickering back to life. Inside the toy Goldfish Game, the water re-oxygenates itself, the holes in the tarp being patched up on their own, and the toy goldfish swim around in their newly fixed tank as if nothing were wrong.  
  
Amidst all of this my ears can pick up the sound of the speakers crackling and screeching back to life.  
  
"Sir Walton!" the distortion is clearing away, "How much longer do you intend to stand there and dawdle?" and they-no _he_ sounds kinda pissed. "Everyone is waiting to see you again! Don't you even remember any of your old friends!?"  
  
There's that rhyming scheme from the commercial that used to come on all the time, actually, the tenor of this guy's voice...that can't be the same guy who did the commercial? Can it?!  
Let's try something, "Ye-yeah...! I remember!!" with my voice still shaking from the cold that I've stopped feeling, I do my best to mimic what my old memories remember what I heard that Walton guy to sound like.  
  
"Good! I'd hate to have you forget all the times we had fun!" the announcer chirps, "Then if there's no issue, then please get here at once!" the whimsy in his tone carries an undertone of sinister intent…  
  
"...a-alright, fine!" I have no choice.

 

At last, the Central Plaza, where the most amount of things happened here. The fireworks, the New Years celebrations, the Anniversary Celebration of the Carnival's opening, even the Christmas and Kwanzaa specials were held in this place. Determined not to be blinded by the memories that replay themselves from an outsider's perspective, I notice that pretty much everything has fixed itself in the fifteen or so minutes it took to even get here. The lights and decorations that had been restored to their former glory, the cacophony of sparking glitter and rainbow street lights shine just as brightly as in my memories.  
  
Ferris wheel spins effortlessly, Starship Infinity does it's trademark Mobius loop around the painted galaxy, and I am still at a loss as I gaze weakly at the polished stone statue of the supposed Lord Walton, who gives an outstretched hand to the darkened night sky in a very gentlemanly manner, almost giving a silent request directly to the Gods to come out of hiding and join him in his Carnival's endless merriment...dressed to the nines in the first edition Carnival Ringleader uniform that's been passed down through the Managers ever since.  
  
"Ah...geez..." If anyone were to ask if I was crying or not, I'd blame it on the rain. "I'm not the sentimental type, dammit! Then hell's gotten into me?" ...I swear it's the rain's fault.

 

Suddenly the circular street lights turn on at once, I block the incoming light with my arm. Moving the bangs away from my eyes I let them adjust as the silhouette that's been stalking me finally comes into full view. The scarlet red of his Ringleader uniform make for a amazingly good backdrop for the golden buttons and matching sash, on his head I can finally see a nicely placed, perfectly fitting red and black top hat resting upon his neatly combed chocolate brown hair - which seems to be tied in the back if I'm not mistaken.

  
Though his eyes are peacefully closed - giving the impression that he's either asleep or a life-like statue in his own right - I can guess that his eyes are a clear stainless steel if the painting I remember is anything to go by. Standing perfectly upright and creepily still, this man is quite tall, perhaps even taller than my brother but certainly taller than me. His black pair of pants don't look the least bit wet, in fact no part of him does! The fair skin of his doesn't look wet with rain water, and he isn't carrying an umbrella... so--! **  
**

**  
** **Oh shit.**

 

"Are you a ghost?"

 

"Pffht...!" The man can't help but stifle his laughter as a gloved hand reaches out from behind his back to cover his mouth, smile widening as he fails to stop himself from chuckling.  
  
"H-Hey...come on! That's not funny!" I retort, having taken more offence than I realize, "Fuckin' park attractions coming to life, I'm almost dying out here in the freezing cold, you're not even damp, and you're just gonna laugh at my misery?!" I take a defensive stance, with hands too numb for me to feel that I'd balled them into fists.  
  
"What the Hell, Walton!? Are you the one that's been giving me nightmares about the gas leak!?" I read online that the air's been clear for a long time since it happened, but only just now I made this personal trip back.  
  
Walton having firmly lost his composure now laughs out loud in schadenfreudic delight, he attempts to calm himself by clearing his throat. Seconds pass, and through the downpour and glittering sparkles, "No." he answers. "I wouldn't do something so cruel. But that forever mischievous _**Sir Eutamias Sibiricus**_ XI most definitely would..." the low growl toward the end there seemed threatening enough to calm me down almost instantly.  
  
" **He's** gone off into hiding again so I cannot force an apology out of him at this time but," taking a breath the Carnival's Ringleader gingerly removes his top hat, crosses his legs as a woman might while preparing to curtsy, "...as the Master of such a troublesome animal," and bows deeply, "I am truly sorry for the trouble I've caused you, sir." he remains like this in my surprised speechlessness.

 

No one's ever bowed to me before...! "Uh, umm..." This is embarrassing! "W-Well whatever, apology accepted! It's fine! Just get back up already!" Crossing my arms out of habit, I ignore the rising heat collecting in my cheeks and turn away defiantly, "Geez..." and deny in my head that the ghost of a Carnival founder was able to fluster me this badly.  
  
"Thank you, sir." Walton returns to his previous position of being upright and nigh motionless, still unfazed by the downpour nor distracted by the shiny new everything that his Carnival has returned to.  
  
"But, sir," he starts again, almost cautiously, "to answer your first question as to the nature of my being," oh he hasn't forgotten! "Yes. I died in this park on September 23rd 1919."  
  
September 23rd...that's today!  
  
"Suffering from an illness I thought would improve itself, I neglected to inform my Doctors or even my loved ones." finally breaking his statue-like image, the forlorn founder paces, tracing along the spotless metal rail along his statue.

 

"The price of that foolish decision of mine being - of course - my life." Walton's eyes - after having turned back around to the light - burn with deep grey melancholy. "My funeral was held in this Carnival as well, with this statue binding me to this location, never to leave nor being able to do anything during the gas leak that brought this dream of mine to ruin. Those who've most unfortunately passed in that incident remain with me as well, I've apologized to them all countless times now, yet they insist that it wasn't my fault... How endearingly naive."  
  
He goes on pacing around and around his place of rest, or restlessness, I can't tell. "So I have waited and waited, waited for the day where one of my Carnival's beloved patrons to return to this place. For that would be the day we all would finally be able to rest peacefully and eternally..." Walton turns to me with the saddest of all smiles that I don't think a living human is capable of.  
  
"...or so I thought."  
  
He dips his gaze away from mine in abject shame. "Even if we've summoned the motivation to return the Carnival to working order, neither I nor anyone else has the will to move on." So even ghosts who come up with method plans still don't know how to move on...? Christ.  
  
"It's quite troubling, this predicament."

 

With his back to me Walton stares at the memorial statue erected in his honor, his expression unknowable to me.

 

With a flinch and a quick turn, "Ah! But hear me blather on!" the ghost of a young man from ages past lets his face glow a translucent red. "Please, I did _not_ mean to talk your poor ears off while you're freezing in this dreadful rain!" He sheepishly tilts the brim of his hat probably hoping that at least the shadow would cover his blushing face. "I give another sincere apology, sir! Please, disregard everything and return home at once. Oh and don't fret over Mr. Announcer's confusion should he see you walking away! The damage done in the gas leak has...confused him greatly, he mistakes _everyone_ to be me..."  
  
Don't say that so shamefully!  
  
"Here sir, let me escort you out myself, it's the least I could do for you and your patience." Walking with a cat-like stride, Walton places a hand on my shoulder, the ironic warmth of this does wonders to ease the numbness and possible signs of frostbite throughout that entire arm. Likely as another way to apologize for keeping me out here. But even still, as he begins to lightly push me along...

 

"I'm not moving." I refuse with absolute firmness.

 

"...what? Are your legs immovable...?" Trust me Lord Walton, I'm fine.

 

"I'm fine, but you guys aren't!"

 

"Huh...? Sir what--?"

 

"I'm not leaving while everyone here continues to suffer."

 

"But...our lives have passed a long time ago, we have no lives _to_ suffer _with_."

 

With emphasis, "Yes. You. Do!" I turn and unexpectedly succeed in grabbing the ghost of Lord Walton by the shoulders, ironically freezing him in place. "Don't worry, don't think that you've guilted me into this! I swear to you, I want to do this!!"

 

"Wha-what?? What do you want to do?" Tremors resound through his voice as his slightly transparent body trembles in kind, the anxiety and confusion are gonna kill me if I don't calm him down.

 

"I want to **help** you obviously!" Though maybe yelling won't help...  
  
Walton physically flinches under my grip, leaving me to wonder just how young he was the day he died for someone yelling to freak him out this much. He looks no older than me... "I loved-- **love** this Carnival, me and my family!"

 

"'M-My family and I'..."

 

Somehow, a slow smile rises on my face. "My family and I love this place. You remember all the things we did here, right?"

 

"Y-Yes... I never forget the smile of a patron..."

 

"And after seeing over 200 other ghosts repair an entire Carnival, and getting to meet the founder of said Carnival...you know there's no way I can let this go, right?"

 

"Ah, I guess not..."

 

"Then let me do this for you. Let me be the the next Manager of Lord Walton's Carnival of Enchanting Pandemonium!"

 

In the dazzling technicolor spectacle that is my family's favorite Carnival rebuilt in the blink of an eye, the face of Lord Walton burns with a red much brighter than any of the lights around us, his ashen eyes turning three shades brighter than anything I've ever seen, outshining the world with ease. "Would you...? Would you truly be willing...?" Expectation gives way to hope.

 

I nod. Happily.

**Author's Note:**

> ...wouldn't it be crazy if Defunctland saw this? lol


End file.
